The Misadventures of Abigail Fenwick
by Artemis1292
Summary: We've seen the story of a young pirate boy, Will Turner, raised into proper society, just to become a pirate once more. What if a spoiled young girl, the daughter of a lord and lady, were to experience the opposite?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hey all. Before you get one me about not updating my other stories, I have lots of writing finished, it just needs to be edited and revised before I post it. Anyway, I had an idea for a POTC story, and this is the result. This is the prologue. If I get enough feedback with people wanting more I'll finish writing the rest and post it. Enjoy and tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer: **I only own my characters and storyline, everything else belongs to its rightful owner

* * *

Abigail Fenwick, the young daughter of Lord and Lady Fenwick, formerly of Wallington Hall in Northumbria, was as prim and proper a lady as could be found. She had impeccable manners, a strict sense of propriety, would only wear the most fashionable and expensive gowns, was quite above chatting with sailors, and certainly did not know how to do such scullion and improper activities as swimming, climbing, running, or wrestling.

The lord and lady were quite pleased with their youngest offspring, a welcome relief and unexpected surprise after three successive boys, and had no qualms in showering her with gifts of fine silks, and jewels, and pearls, and a little white pony all of her own. Needless to say she was more than a little spoiled, not that a true lady is ever deserving of such a title.

They were currently onboard a large merchant ship, the _Loveday_, en route to the thriving port city of Port Royal in the Caribbean. Lord Fenwick had won some attention to himself and had been awarded a large estate on the island, and had promptly decided to move there with his wife and daughter, with an open invitation to his three grown sons who were all in the service of His Majesty's navy.

The vessel, which was by no means a small, insignificant ship, had left London harbor several weeks prior. They had enjoyed a fairly easy passage across the Atlantic, only one storm of any real notability, thus their journey had seen no true delays and they had passed into Caribbean waters before the sun had risen.

As there was no chance of arriving in Port Royal until at least the following day, and that given only if they had a fair wind and clear skies, Miss Fenwick had decided to dress in one of her less fancy gowns, an emerald silk with silver threaded embroidery and tiny freshwater pearls adorning it. Her silken stockings were secured by their garters on her legs, and her soft, matching green slippers padded softly as she made her way up to the deck after her maid, Anna, had finished brushing her long hair and tying it up with a satin ribbon.

Abigail walked at a ladylike pace as she ascended the stairs and came out onto the large open deck. She ignored the sailors in the rigging and about the space as she treaded lightly to the railing on looked out at the same scenery of endless waves that she had been privy to these last long weeks. She was quite sick of the smell of sea air, and only countless lessons of etiquette prevented her from scrunching up her face in distaste as she breathed in deeply, secretly glad to be out of the cramped space in the underbelly of the ship. Of course, she supposed, too salty or not, to be able to breathe deeply was a luxury she would soon not have at all, already she was drawing near an age when she would have to begin wearing a dreaded corset. Fashionable or not, she had seen her cousins and close relations faint and collapse because of the whalebone devices, and it was rather uncomfortable looking in her opinion.

Her musings on corsets and the dreariness of the sea were interrupted by Anna calling for her about coming to tea, and she dolefully returned to the shadowy underworld of the belowdeck area of the ship where a tasty meal of old tea leaves and stale tea cakes awaited. Yes, she would certainly be glad when this trip was over.

Several hours later, when the balmy air had grown cool enough that Anna had nearly smothered her in an attempt to wrap a shawl about her shoulders, Abigail found herself back on the deck of the _Loveday_, observing, with mild interest, dark clouds brewing on the horizon. At first she had thought it was nearly the approaching nightfall, as it was already well into the evening, however the clouds grew closer and looked almost as though they were boiling, brilliant flashes of lightning and rolling thunder making themselves apparent, though still a good ways off.

The sailors around her began to become uneasy, and orders were shouted for sails to be brought in and riggings secured, but of course, she was a proper lady and paid no attention to the chaos around her, preferring to stare, with mild interest, at the rather spectacular sight of the approaching storm.

It was not until the tempest was nigh upon them that Captain O'Malley, a weathered but kind sea captain, noticed the small girl bracing herself against the railing, her wide skirts blowing wildly and her tresses waving about her face.

"Lassie!" The captain hollered to her. "You'd best be a getting' back to your quarters, a storm's a blowin!"

Abigail, at hearing the captain's call, nodded stiffly to him and began making her way to the back of the ship, where the stairway to the belly of the ship was located, clutching the railing as she went since the winds had suddenly become much stronger and she was in danger of being knocked over.

She was nearly to her destination when she, for the first time, realized why so many men visiting her father and the sailors, who she had of course not been listening to, had spoken of the dangers and treachery of the sea. Almost in an instant the waves became rougher and higher, tossing the ship to and fro as they surged with and against it. She lost her balance more than once, and if not for her tight grip on the rail would have gone crashing to the deck. The men above her paid her no mind, or did not see her at all, for they were climbing up and down amongst the sails, tying and securing ropes, and trying to stay aloft with the turbulent movements of the ship. A great wave suddenly splashed over the deck, soaking her to the bone, the delicate silk of the dress allowing all of her warmth to escape. She coughed and spluttered as another wave came crashing over her, and it was this wave, even larger than the first, that sealed her fate.

In a single, terrifying moment she lost her grip on the rail, and the deck of the ship left her feet. She helplessly rolled under the rail as the water receded, having nothing to cling to and nothing to catch her, and was swept right off the ship. She landed in the water with a great splash, though against the noise of the storm and the crashing of the waves it seemed hardly a disturbance at all. Her momentum forced her far into the water, and the waves rolled her back up, breaking the surface and allowing her a brief gasp of air and seawater before pulling her back under, until she knew not which way was up or down. By chance she reached the surface again, the ship growing further away as she struggled in the water, but she knew not how to swim and was soon under again, sinking below the waves, the weight of her dress dragging her down. She reached upward with her arms, searching for anything, a rope, a hand, anything at all, and suddenly she felt something. Somehow a barrel had rolled off the ship when or soon after she did, and it bobbed up and down at the surface of the ocean, thick ropes binding it. She grasped it with freezing fingers, finding what little strength she had left to pull herself somewhat onto the barrel. She lay there gasping for a long while before finally looking up to see the ship. But she could not see it through the blinding rain and high waves. She was utterly alone in the water.

"Help!" She screamed, her throat sore from having salt water rush into her lungs. Her faint cry reached out to no one, but still she tried. "Help me! I've fallen into the water! Please come back!"

But there was no answer, and she could see naught of the ship. .

When morning came she was still clinging to the barrel, looking more like a drowned rat than a prosperous young lady. By chance a passing ship happened upon the makeshift life raft and its unfortunate cargo, and thus it was that she came to be aboard the _Green Dragon_, captained by James S. Pearson and crewed by his fearsome band of pirates.

* * *

As Abigail woke to the sun beaming down warmly onto her skin and heating her comfortably dry clothes, she thought for a moment that she had merely dreamed the storm and its unfortunate occurrences, perhaps the affect of being out in the sun for too long. However as the wind brushed past her face, it carried upon it the most un-Godly scent she had ever had the misfortune to smell; that would be men who had gone a great many days without so much as dipping a finger or toe into water or a decent scrub with soap. And when she opened her eyes she knew for certain it had not been a deranged figment of her imagination, for around her stood the oddest and most frightening men she had ever laid eyes on.

They wore weathered and ripped clothing of a whole assortment of faded colors: beaten leather vests, striped trousers with jagged edges, stained cotton shirts that hung open too far, or at least the few who had the decency to wear a shirt that is, some went barefoot, others wore mismatched boots and buckle shoes, some had hats, bandanas, eye patches, missing limbs, one of the men even had a brightly colored parrot. They all had an absolutely wicked assortment of cutlasses, pistols, knives, and other weapons that would do more than a little harm.

As for the men themselves, they were tanned from spending endless hours on the sea. Most had beards or stubble, though a few were neatly trimmed or shaved entirely. They leered at her with beady eyes, studying her as intently as she was observing them. And finally one of them spoke.

"Captain!" The largest man, a great rugged giant with a thick red beard, suddenly roared in a booming voice. "The little lassie's awake!"

Abigail jumped at his voice, but pretended that she had not. It would be best to appear as though they did not frighten her.

Moments later the light slapping of leather boots on wood could be heard, as well as the jingle of a cutlass on a belt. A middle-aged man came into view, his clothes better cared for then most of his men's, and he did not smell quite so badly, though she couldn't be sure as their scents were overpowering her delicate sense of smell. A large hat rested on his head, curly brown hair peeking out from under it, and a well-made sword rested at his side.

"Well, I see yer awake." He said, a slight sailor's accent coming into his speech. "What be yer name, little missy?"

She lifted her chin and peered down, or rather up, her nose at him. "I am Abigail Fenwick, daughter of Lord and Lady Fenwick, and it is Miss Fenwick to you, sir." She held her head high and attempted to look superior, well aware that her dress was quite ruined, her hair, which Anna had put up so beautifully, was hanging limply around her face, and she had lost her slippers somewhere while in the ocean.

As she finished the sailors, pirates she corrected herself, began to laugh uproariously.

The captain chuckled along with them and bowed to her mockingly, sweeping his hat off his head. "Well, Miss Fenwick. Captain James Pearson at your service. Welcome aboard the _Green Dragon_. And now I believe we have some things we need to discuss."

* * *

When Abigail caught a glance of herself in the broken piece of mirror that was stuck to the wall in the tiny cabin she had been given, she almost didn't recognize herself.

The ruined green dress had been discarded of and replaced by a fairly clean boys blouse and trousers, as well as a soft leather vest and a belt. Had she still had her shoes they might have let her keep them, but as it was she would have to go barefoot, as there were no spares, and certainly none to fit her small feet. She had willingly changed her clothes when the captain had thrust the small pile into her arms and directed her to his cabin. The dress was beyond hopes of repair, and though the boys clothes were strange and improper, she felt safer in them than the dress around all the men. She had been informed that she would not be returned to her parents or her previous life, instead she would remain on the ship, taking the position of a cabin boy to earn her keep. She had not said a word. The few possessions she had had on her, a bracelet, a jeweled hair clip, some rings, had been claimed, though Captain Pearson had been kind enough to allow her to keep the simple, pewter necklace and pendant that was engraved with her family's crest. It wouldn't sell for much, and was too easily recognized as stolen, that was what he had said. And then, worst of all, was her hair. As she had turned to storm off to her room, a scathing remark leaving her mouth, he had grasped her by the hair and brought his sword down by her head. For a moment she had thought he would strike her down, but when she opened her eyes she was still standing, though her head felt strangely light. It was only when she looked to the floor, where dark brown tresses littered the boards, that she realized what he had done. He had cut off her long hair. She had finally cried then, tears leaking from her eyes before she could stop them. Now that she could see her reflection she saw the damage he had done. Her hair had been chopped off unevenly, only the very back coming down to barely brush her shoulders. The rest hung about her face, long enough to get in her eyes, but too short to tie back. She looked like a boy, but then, perhaps that had been his intent.

All that remained of the spoiled daughter of Lord and Lady Fenwick was her grey eyes, red tinted from crying. She threw herself into the ragged hammock that served as her bed, and for the first time in her life cried herself to sleep.

So began the misadventures of Abigail Fenwick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Here's the next chapter, more of an intro to the current timeline

**Disclaimer:** I own only my characters and plot

* * *

The sun beamed down onto the earth, it's warm rays finally beginning to pierce thru the thick blanket of fog that covered the calm sea in a blanket of white wetness. As the bank thinned and dispensed the hull of a ship became visible, its sides weathered and sails heavily patched. The past eight years had taken their toll on the _Green Dragon_, yet she still sailed the treacherous seas with the same ease and finesse she had done so with on her maiden voyage.

In a certain cabin on the small pirate ship a young woman peered critically into the same mirror she had stared into nearly a decade before. The room and mirror may not have changed much in those years, but the woman had. She was several inches taller now, and had been forced to hammer in a new nail higher up on which to hang the jagged piece of glass. Her hair had grown out after its unfortunate meeting with the Captain's sword, and while normally she kept it in a braid down her back, today it had been arranged in a fancy style of curls and twisted loops the likes of which she had not worn since the day she had fallen into the icy grasp of the sea. It was fortunate, she mused as she pinned up another spiral, that she had at least retained her grooming habits; she had seen other female pirates, and had she allowed her hair to become the thick, tangled dreadlocks like theirs this ploy would never have worked. Her skin was no longer a smooth, milky white, but had grown tanned and freckled after endless hours in the hot sun. Toned muscles now covered her body, acquired from years of swabbing decks, climbing riggings, and fighting with a blade. While her wardrobe had remained much the same since the Captain had given her clothes, today she was dressed in a fine silk gown, the sort of which she should have been wearing every day of the past years. But that was a different life now.

"Hey, Abbi, ya ready?" A rough voice sounded at the door as a large hand pounded on it.

"Just a minute, Rufus." The woman called, taking a few minutes to remove the small, golden hoops from her ears and replace them with earrings that matched the delicate necklace she wore. She smoothed down the dress one last time, feeling odd to not be in trousers and to be wearing shoes rather than going barefoot, before going to the door.

On the other side of the thin wood stood the same man who had scared her so much at their first meeting, only now his red hair held hints of grey and his thick beard was thinning. Rufus Stevenson grinned down at her, the very picture of a father proud to see his only daughter heading to a coming out ball.

"You ready, Lassie?" He asked as they walked side by side down the narrow hallway, Abbi mindful of her dress; it had been stolen from a merchant ship several weeks before and it wouldn't do for her to accidentally ruin it when they were almost to their goal. "We'll be making port by midday."

"And then to make my way to the Governor's house, acquire an invitation to the ball from his daughter, wait until the party is in full swing, and make off with as many valuables as I can carry and then some." She said dully, as though she had been repeating it over and over. "I know the plan, Rufus."

"I wasn't askin if ya knew the plan, I was askin if you was ready." He said with a laugh as they made their way on deck and over to the railing, other members of the crew high above them in the riggings or working on the other decks.

Abbi looked out on the sea with a yearning stare. Many years before she may have found the sea dull and dreary, but now she would give up the most beautiful gems if it would allow her to go on sailing for ever. There was something wild and beautiful and enchanting about the rolling waves and white crests, the fiercest tempests and smoothest calms.

The island of Jamaica was dimly visible on the horizon, Port Royal lay on its nearest end. Her parents still lived there as far as she knew, and perhaps her brothers as well. They would think her dead, and truly, Abigail Fenwick, the young lady of the king's court was gone; now there was Abbi Fens, scallywag and pirate lass. They wouldn't recognize her even if they could see her now, of that she was sure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her dress, sending a glare at Tommy, the newest cabin boy, when he sent a teasing whistle her way.

"Come on, lassie." Rufus ordered her. "The Captain wants ta see ya a'fore we get there."

* * *

The _Green Dragon_ pulled into the harbor of Port Royal about an hour past the noon bell. Her colors changed for the occasion to the king's standard so as not to draw upon them the full wrath of the large garrison of His Majesty's navy that was quartered at the easily defensible port city.

Abbi walked casually down the gangplank as the 'merchant sailors' unloaded their not so legally attained cargo onto the docks, fitting into their guise of a small business ship in perfect tandem. She was forced to concentrate more than she would have liked on slowing her steps from the long, easy strides of a sailor to the small, dainty steps of a refined young woman. Down the docks she strode with unconcerned primness, astutely ignoring everything that was going on around her, and jumping with fright when a portly man in a wig stepped in front of her.

"Miss." He said cordially, allowing the timid lady to gather her wits. "May I welcome you to Port Royal, and if it not be too rude, inquire as to your business here?"

"Oh, of course sir!" She said quietly, waving a thin fan demurely. "I thank you for the kind welcome. I'm here visiting, and if you would be so kind to fetch me a guide to the Governor's house, I have need to meet with his daughter."

The man appeared rather flattered to have the young woman showering him with her attentions, and he swelled like a peacock.

"My lady, look no further, for your guide stands before you." He offered her his arm and she took it, fluttering her lashes and thanking him several times.

As they walked away she held a hand behind her back, a finger up in a rude gesture in the direction of some of her crewmates who were snickering at her.

* * *

It took longer than expected to reach the Governor's mansion as it was market day and the streets were fairly teeming with people. The little, portly man was huffing and puffing by the time they made it to the base of the hill that the large house sat upon.

"I am… I…" He wheezed as they stood before the gate. "I leave… you here" He said, bowing and waddling back towards town.

She watched him leave, pretending to fan herself from the exertion until he was out of sight and promptly stopped. She wasn't even winded from the walk, and proceeded to continue on her way, remembering to shorten her steps just in time.

A doorman bowed to her and opened the door as she reached the house; she proceeded inside without sparing him a glance.

By chance Governor Swann happened to be walking thru the front foyer, and he quickly took note of the unexpected guest.

"Oh! Dear me, did you need something miss?"

"Yes, Lord Governor." Abbi stated demurely, sweeping gracefully into a curtsy, suddenly thankful for the few hours she had spent practicing them aboard the ship.

"My name is Annabeth Carlisle and I have a message from my friend, Miss Emily Dunhurst, for your daughter concerning the night's activities."

"Well, of course, if you'll wait here a moment I'll have Elizabeth down immediately.

She nodded silently and the older gentlemen hurried up the curved staircase, presumably to his daughter's room.

Emily Dunhurst, a prosperous young woman of the court, had been the previous owner of the gown she now wore. They had been raiding the merchant vessel she had been traveling aboard and had learned of the ball. After leaving the vessel stranded plans had been made to take Miss Dunhurst's place at the event; by the time the crippled ship made its way into port the pirates would be long gone with the bounty.

"You have a message for me?" A sharp female voice sounded from the stairs.

Abbi looked up from where she had been studying the architecture of the room. Descending the stairs was a lovely woman with honey colored hair and brown eyes. She was slim and tall but dainty, though with a strong presence to make up for it. Her clothes were top of the line and the silk ruffled as she stepped off the final step.

"Yes, a mutual acquaintance of ours, Miss Emily Dunhurst, wanted me to inform you that she will not be able to attend the ball tonight."

"Oh, well then you must come in her place, of course." The offer was made more of politeness than actual invitation, though most of the people attending would only be there for politeness as well.

Abbi dipped her head in acceptance and Elizabeth gave a small smile.

"Perhaps you will take a turn about the gardens or a short walk into town to get better acquainted?"

"Of course, Miss Swann."

"Thank you, Miss?"

"Annabeth Carlisle."

"Very well, Annabeth it is. And you simply must call me Elizabeth."

"If that is your wish." Abbi stated neutrally as they walked out the door.

"It is." The other girl said firmly and Abbi almost smiled. The girl had more will power than she had originally thought.

* * *

The two young women walked into town at a slow but steady rate, talking of this and that until Elizabeth began questioning about the voyage from England.

"Did you run into pirates?" The governor's daughter asked with almost disturbing excitement.

"Goodness no!" Abbi laughed, slightly thrown off her guard by her acquaintance's strange interest.

"Oh." Elizabeth sighed, sounding rather dejected. "It wasn't very exciting then, was it?"

"No, not a bit."

"A pity. Well, this is Mr. Brown's Smithy. My father has commissioned a sword from him, but its Mr. Brown's apprentice who does all the work, even if he doesn't get any credit." Elizabeth explained as she pushed open the wooden door and led the way inside the dimly lit building.

Abbi's mouth watered when she stepped inside. There were rows and barrels full of gold-inlaid handles and glittering steel blades. Her fingers itched to secrete one within the voluminous folds of her dress, but that would ruin her guise in an instant if the sword smith was knowledgeable of his stock.

"Will!" Elizabeth called, smiling brightly when a handsome young man with dark hair and eyes made his presence known as he walked in from another room.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Miss Swann." He said politely with a bow.

"Will, please, call me Elizabeth." She ordered him, an annoyed look on her face. "And this is my new acquaintance, Miss Annabeth Carlisle, Annabeth, this is my friend William Turner."

"Miss Carlisle." The blacksmith bowed over her extended.

"Mr. Turner." She replied with a curtsey.

"So, Will." Elizabeth began to talk to the young man while Abbi, no longer able to control her desire for the beautifully crafted blades, made her way to where several were hanging on the wall. "How much longer till my father's sword is complete?"

"It shouldn't be more than a day or so, Miss Swann." Will said with a smile. "Miss! Please be careful, I wouldn't want you to harm yourself!" He called to Abbi who had picked up one of the blades and was swinging it expertly, testing its balance and weight.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist." She told her rather shocked looking observers. "It is such a lovely blade."

"You know how to wield a sword?" Elizabeth asked, excitement creeping back into her voice.

"Just a little." The other girl told her, quickly sheathing the weapon and returning to Elizabeth's side. "Shall we be going?"

* * *

The guests began to arrive and mingle soon before the sun set. There were many military men and their ladies, as well as a few nobles. Abbi spent her time sweeping gracefully thru the room, snatching a bracelet or hair clip now and then and hiding the glittering jewels in a hidden pocket that had been sewn into her skirts.

The pocket was growing heavy and she was forced to slow down a bit, when she ran into someone, and looking up found herself seeing a ghost.

"Whoa, steady there miss, are you all right?" A handsome man in his thirties held onto her shoulders as she tried to regain her balance, his dark hair and grey eyes peering at her curiously.

"Thank you, sir." Abbi said with a curtsy, praying that her eldest brother wouldn't recognize her.

"Father, who's the pretty lady?" A young voice asked from behind him.

Abbi and her brother both turned, and Abbi was shocked by what she saw. A little girl, about eight years old, was standing beside a young blonde woman who the pirate knew to be her brother's wife, Sarah. She had had no idea they had a daughter. Her brother looked rather surprised.

"Forgive me, miss, I never asked your name."

"Annabeth Carlisle." She told him, curtseying and keeping her face as far down as she could without seeming rude.

"Benjamin Fenwick, and this is my wife, Mrs. Sarah Fenwick, and my daughter, Annabelle."

"Papa," the little girl said in a loud whisper. "She looks like the girl in the painting!"

Benjamin took another look at the young woman before him, a surprised expression on his face. "You're right." He said, smiling down at his daughter. "Forgive her, it's just that you bear a startling resemblance to my dead sister."

"It's all right, I am sorry for your loss." Abbi said softly, then excused herself and hurried away as fast as she could.

"Wait! Miss! You dropped something!" The little girl cried out, catching sight of a plain silver chain and pendant falling from the woman's neck. Benjamin bent down to retrieve the necklace his daughter had noticed, only to freeze when he examined it closer. It was old and well worn, but it was quite clearly his family's crest.

"Stop! Thief!" He shouted, wanting to know where the woman had come by the pendant that his sister had been wearing the last time she was seen.

The woman was easily apprehended in the room full of militia, two fellow officers held her tightly between them as she struggled.

Benjamin and his family headed towards her, easily maneuvering through the suddenly quiet room. Out of the corner of his eye the eldest brother could see his two younger siblings following him with confused looks on their faces.

"Where did you get this?" He asked the woman, holding the chain and pendant in front of her face. He frowned when she didn't answer and tried to avoid looking at him. "I asked you a question." He growled, grasping her chin and turning her face towards him, his eyes widening when he finally got a good look at her features.

"Abigail?" He asked incredulously, his brothers jostling him to get a good look of the girl he had just named as their sister.

"It is you, Abigail!" James, the middle son, exclaimed, moving in to embrace her.

She took advantage of his closeness to pull his ceremonial sword from its sheath, brandishing it expertly at him as he stepped back in shock.

"What a twist of fate." The soon to be Commodore Norrington said blandly as he approached the frozen scene. "The long lost Abigail Fenwick turns out to be none other than the pirate, Abbi Fens."

There were many gasps of horror from the ladies, and shocked looks from her family at the man's proclamation.

"Thank you for the kind introduction, nancy boy." The revealed pirate said with a sneer. "But I believe I will be taking my leave." And saying so she made as if to strike a nearby woman who shrieked and ducked in fright, giving Abbi a chance to leap over her and run through the still open doors.

"After the pirate!" Could be heard from the Governor's mansion as chaos pursued.

Abbi dashed down the roads towards the docks, well aware of what would happen if she didn't reach them in time, or she was caught. She cursed the long skirts of her dress as she nearly tripped over them for the umpteenth time. She ran along the edge of the wall on the cliffs, running faster when she could hear angry shouting behind her. As she continued to sprint to ripped the pocket from her dress and tied it so as not to let the jewels escape before flinging it over the edge of the wall and into the water. Abbi flung her shoes off her feet as she made it too the level ground between her and the docks, but was surprised to find her way blocked by red-coated militia. She dug her heels into the ground and turned down another street, only to find more soldiers waiting for her at the end. She stopped and scanned the area as they advanced on her. Spying a low roof she ran at the wall and used her momentum to grab hold of the edge, struggling to pull herself up with the added weight from the skirt. A sudden tugging on her foot caused her to loose her grip and come crashing to the ground in a flurry of fabric and sprawling of legs. When she had sorted herself out she found herself face to face with a circle of bayonets.

"Take her to the jailhouse." Norrington ordered coldly as he glanced down at the captured pirate who was staring up at him with a disturbing grin on her face. "Miss Fens will be getting acquainted with the gallows following my promotion."

As the soldiers dragged her away Abbi looked back to see her brothers watching her, mixed emotions on their faces as she disappeared around the streetcorner.


End file.
